Journalist. Mother. Bunny enthusiast. Pop culture junkie.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

After interning at our local NBC station during college, I was asked out by one of the cameramen, named Mike. He was young and cute, so I said yes.

The date started out fine. He took me to a baseball game and we had fun.

It was when he took me to Denny's restaurant afterwards, that things got weird.

"I'm just going to lay it out for you," he randomly said, after we ordered our coffee. "I'm not looking for a good time. I'm looking for a wife."

Um, what.

"I'm 29 years old and in six months, I'm going to be 30," he said. "I want a wife and I want children, before I get too old. I don't have much time left. You're beautiful and I think you would be the perfect partner on my life journey."

"But, you don't even know me," I said, bewildered.

"We can get to know each other later," he quickly responded. "You don't understand. Everyone in my family got married before they were 30. They have kids now. I want kids. I want kids so bad. Will you please consider what I am asking you?"

I hesitantly told him I would think about it, only because he was my ride home and I was worried he was mentally unstable.

The next day, I left a quick voicemail on his cell phone saying I had decided he was too old for me and I didn't feel comfortable marrying someone who was going to be 30 in six months. I had been 21 at the time.

It was a mean gesture on my part, but I was pretty and skinny back then and frequently got away with being a brat.

The icing on the cake came a year later when a college friend of mine, Liz, and I were reminiscing about bad dates. We discovered that we had Mike in common.

"I went out with Mike after I interned at NBC last March," Liz said. "The date was going fine until he took me to Denny's and told me that he wanted a wife."

...wow.

The Pesky Politician

I was sitting at my desk in the newsroom, when the phone rang. It was the mayor. "I hope you don't mind my asking you a personal question," she asked. "But are you single?"

"Ummm yes," I responded, in surprise.

"Well I have good news for you!" she giggled. "One of the council members has a crush on you."

In horror, my mind raced through all the male city council members. They were mostly ghastly-looking fellows over 60.

"Who is it?" I asked, fearfully.

"Mike!" She squealed. "Can I give him your number?"

Oh, Mike. I had forgotten about him. He was a pretty decent looking 32-year-old who was recently elected on the council. After getting clearance from my editor, I told her to give Mike the green light.

A few days later, Mike took me out to a romantic Spanish cafe for tapas. He overdosed on the charm and by the time dinner was served, it became apparent he wasn't my type. But I remained friendly and cringed through his lame jokes.

When he dropped me off after the date, he tried to kiss me. I backed away. But he grabbed my head roughly and stuck his tongue in my mouth.

"I bought you dinner so you kiss me," he growled.

I was stunned and incredibly upset.

I ignored all his phone calls after that date, even when he would ring my work desk up to 15 times per day.

Two weeks later, I had to cover a city council meeting for a news story I was working on. I avoided eye contact with Mike as he stared at me from his podium.

During the 15 minute intermission, a middle-aged woman approached me.

"You must be Jenny, the news reporter," she said, with a big fake smile. "Mike was right, you are very pretty."

She introduced herself as Patty, Mike's mother. He had flown her in from Las Vegas that morning so she could attend the city council meeting and meet me. He had found out several days earlier that I would be attending the meeting.

"Mike talks about you every single day," she said. "Sometimes for hours. He's very taken with you. But he tells me you're not answering his phone calls and he wants to know why."

I just stared at her with my mouth open.

"He told me how much you love shopping," she continued. "Maybe we could discuss why you're not answering his calls while we browse through the shoe selection at Nordstrom?"

I didn't answer. I was too flabbergasted.

The meeting resumed. After the meeting, Patty made another beeline for me and I ran.

I continued ignoring Mike's persistent phone calls for months until he finally stopped. He had been calling up to 20 times per day!

Three years later, Mike unsuccessfully ran for mayor.

So out of the four douchebags I've reviewed, which one seems like the biggest douchebag to you?

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

You see, up until four years ago, I managed to date every single douchebag within a 25 mile radius.

I'm not sure if I gravitated towards them, or if I attracted them like flies. Probably both.

Obviously, that portion of my life is over. So I guess there is no harm in sharing them now.

Here are a couple of my stories:

The Pseudo Scot

My sophomore year of college, I was struggling with a heavy bout of depression. I didn't like myself or anyone else. But for some reason, I started hanging out with a guy named David. This guy was tall, thin, and had a red goatee. We met at an open mic poetry reading at a coffee shop right off campus. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck and a black beret and black plastic glasses (which I later found out were merely a fashion accessory, since he had perfect vision).

David wooed me with his emo-angst rantings about how the world was filled with emptiness and the human race was devoid of love. He took me to every single poetry reading on campus and he would get so into them, he would start rocking back and forth, his eyes glassy. After each reading, he would discuss in minute detail the symbolism behind every poem, without ever asking my opinion. When I offered my thoughts on the poems, he would get really mad and tell me I didn't know what I was talking about. It hurt my feelings. But I didn't care that I didn't like him very much, because I was so lonely.

A couple months after we we started dating, David spontaneously decided to quit school and move to Scotland to become a poet. I dropped him off at the airport and never saw or heard from him again.

Angry Brown Man

My ex's best friend had been obsessed with me for a long time. So, out of spite to my ex, I went out with him a few times. His name was Amir and he was the love child of an Afghanistan soldier and a German actress. But he identified mostly with his Afghanistan roots, even though his father abandoned him as a baby.

He was always mad because he thought everyone who interacted with him was racist. For example, we would go to a restaurant and as we were leaving, he would mutter, "those people were staring at me because I'm brown." As a deliciously coffee-colored person myself, I was very perplexed by his perception. I never saw anyone look at him rudely.

The last straw was when we were sitting outside at a cafe and an elderly couple approached him for directions to Radio Shack. Amir lost it. He screamed at the old couple, "Why the fuck would I know where the fucking Radio Shack is? Is it because I'm brown? You thought the brown man would know? Do you think I work there? WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!" The poor elderly couple was confused and shaken and a bystander called the police.

When the police arrived, Amir started yelling at them and then he pushed an officer and then he got handcuffed. I watched him get escorted into the police car. He never even said goodbye. I had to pay for our expensive meal myself. We never spoke again.

Three years later, I discovered on Facebook that Amir had moved to Yemen for graduate school.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Knowing my passion for old films, my best friend Jonny recently recommended The V.I.P.s to me.

The film revolves around various groups of people waiting in a VIP lounge at a London airport. All are scheduled to fly over to the US. But fog prevents their departure, therefore causing an unbearable crisis in each of their lives.

Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton headline the ensemble cast, playing a wealthy couple whose marriage is on the rocks.

There are other mini plots surrounding a businessman in a financial crisis, a duchess having a relocation crisis, and a movie director involved in a tax crisis.

Unfortunately, I was not the biggest fan of this film. I thought the plotlines were weak, the acting unspectacular, and the humor fleeting.

Plus, I am a huge fan of Grand Hotel, the 1932 classic this film's concept is emulating. It just doesn't compare.

That being said, I couldn't keep my eyes off the screen. Because Elizabeth Taylor is just too glamorous to ignore.

Normally, Elizabeth Taylor is a fairly good actress. She says her lines and you believe them. In this film, however, it was like she just gave up trying. No trace of any normal human emotion flickers on her gorgeous face.

Her sexiest scenes, involving a love triangle, were devoid of any passion.

But she looked gorgeous doing them.

I was fascinated to learn that La La Liz used all her own jewelry in this film.

I also really loved her costumes. She had a pink dress in particular I thought was adorable.

If you're obsessed with old films or you're a die-hard Elizabeth Taylor fanatic, The V.I.P.s might be worth your while.

Friday, June 24, 2011

I recently reconnected with an old high school friend of mine, Shane. We were reminiscing about the past, when he mentioned that he manages a young musician who graduated from our high school this year. The kid's name is Trent Pryor and he's a singer/songwriter/guitarist.

I listened to a couple of Trent's songs and I thought he was pretty good. Plus, we all know I'm a sucker for a cute boy.

You can hear one of his original songs below:

Impressive, isn't he?

I managed to score an interview with the handsome and polite musician. I hope you enjoy!

Here it is:

1. How would you describe your music?

I would describe my music as acoustic rock with a country twist, and for me is deeply personal and relatable. Everything I write relates to something that has happened in my life. Some situations worse than others.
2. How did you get started in music?

Ever since I was a baby, my uncle used to sing and play his guitar for me. On my fifth birthday, he gave me my first guitar. How was that?...Never stopped.3. Who has been your greatest influence as a musician?

My greatest influence was and always will be Johnathan Joseph Theodore Rzeznik of The Goo Goo Dolls.

4. When writing songs, what inspires you?

The things that inspire me as a songwriter would be all the experiences (good or bad) that I have taken the time to learn from and better myself not only as a musician, but a human being as a whole.5. What do you hope to achieve with your music?

I believe that every person needs to feel the way they feel, without fear of being judged or looked down upon. In my writing I want to express to all listeners that it is okay to feel the way you feel in any situation. Whether it be a loss in a family or friend, or a heart wrenching break up. I just want to let people know that they are not the only ones who have felt hurt or alone. We're human, we have emotions. It's okay to express them.

6. How did your family react when they found out you wanted to be a musician? Have they been supportive?

My family was not surprised when I told them all I wanted to be was a musician. All family members have been supportive, however my parents and uncle have invested more time and money into my career to be successful. They have provided me with the right equipment, the lessons, the attention, and support to keep me doing what I love to do most.

7. What has been the most important lesson you have learned while trying to make it as a performer?

You have to give the same performance and dedication in every show you do. But I also discovered that that is only half the battle. The business side is the hardest to overcome. You need people with connections who believe in you and want to make you into something great. You also need to play shows like crazy, to get your name out there. You can't be selfish when it comes to money. You need to work your way up.

8. What challenges have you faced as a musician?

Facing the reality of trying to record, or trying different methods of promotion have to wait. When you are a young artist, only making minimum wage at your day job, your budget is limited.9. What makes you stand out from other artists?

I appreciate and respect all the support of my fans, and I take the time to sit and talk to get to know them, because I want them to feel like they know me as well. I don't feel that that's a connection I'll ever lose because they are what my career is based on.10. When you're not busy performing or writing songs, what else do you like to do? Any hobbies or activities?

When I'm not performing, I usually spend time with my friends or my family. Trying to find ways that my parents might need help around the house. Just little things. When I'm not around my friends or family, I'm usually at my job as a lifeguard or lifting at the gym. A few video games here and there, listening to music. Just normal dude stuff.If you're interested in learning even more about Trent, or listening to his other songs, check out his Facebook page here or his Reverbnation page here.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Well, now that my Jonny is gone, I'm back to facing reality and sinking in my own miserable life.

So, today, I immersed myself in fabulousness to avoid drowning in my self-pity. I watched old Madonna music videos.

I recently purchased her entire box set of 1980s music videos/concerts/interviews.

Growing up, I had always been a huge Madonna fan. I was lucky enough to become obsessed with her in the early 90s when she was still fairly young and raising eyebrows with her raunchy misbehavior.

I'm not going to give you her full biography because I think she's famous enough where everybody knows it.

In a nutshell: Madonna was born in Michigan in 1958 and moved to NYC in 1977. Her goal was to be a dancer but a twist of fate led her to become one of the biggest pop stars in the world. She released her first album in 1983 (I actually could be wrong here, I'm writing this all from memory and I'm too lazy to check that specific year).

She changed the music world forever.

I love me some Britney and Lady Gaga, but let's face it. They will never come close to touching Madge.

I wish that I had been old enough during the 1980s to appreciate Madonna's legendary sense of style. I would have preferred wearing leather jackets and tutus in high school over the Britney Spears crop tops and flared glitter jeans I wore during the late 1990s.

Which is probably why I wear leather jackets and tutus when I'm out partying now, in my twenties. I think it's more acceptable to dress like Madonna at street parties rather than high schools these days, right?

Friday, June 17, 2011

I'm sorry I have been MIA these past few days. I don't have a working laptop and most of my free time is dedicated to being put on hold by health insurance customer service representatives. I live an insanely glamorous life.

Something has been bothering me these past few months, which I felt the need to discuss here: animal neglect.

I go walking two or three times a day. One of my usual routes passes a cat shelter. The store has big open windows with cages in perfect view, allowing passersby the opportunity to stop and admire the felines. Often, I will see people in the shop, playing with the kittens or adopting a cat.

But there is one cat in particular who does not receive this attention.

He is a giant fat tabby with black and brown speckled fur. He is always sitting in the same spot, hunched over, looking incredibly uncomfortable in his tiny cage.

There is a sign on his cage that says:

"When my owners got divorced, neither one of them wanted to keep me. I'm a loving cat who is looking for a good home."

This cat has been at the shelter for THREE MONTHS.

And every time I pass the store, I see children holding kittens or older couples cradling the smaller cats. I have never seen one person even look at this cat. Apparently he's too big, too old, and too boring. It breaks my heart.

First, I completely despise the owners who got divorced and then tossed him aside like an unwanted piece of furniture. This couple should have been fighting over who got to KEEP the cat. Not the other way around. Why the hell even bother getting a cat to begin with if you're not going to love it and take responsibility for it? I'm sickened by the entire situation.

People have no business getting a pet if they are not going to take care of it and love it. There should be a law against it.

Second, I'm so tired of looking in that damn cat shelter and seeing people swoon over the kittens.

If you're going to a cat shelter, look at the older cats. They need love just as much as kittens do. Plus, there is a really good chance they are already litter-trained.

Third, I desperately wish I was not allergic to cats. I can't even be in the same room as a cat without getting an asthma attack. Allergy pills don't work for me either. It sucks. Because if I was not allergic to cats, I would have adopted the fat tabby three months ago.

And fourth, I spend a majority of my time thinking about that poor cat locked up in that tiny cage. The cat shelter owners do not let the cats out for exercise. It is my worst nightmare to imagine that poor thing cooped up in two feet of space every second of the day for three months. It actually makes me quite sick to think about it.

So, yeah. This really bothers me.

I'm not quite sure what to do about it. I'm not even sure if there is anything I can do about it.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

I was originally going to do a post on Michelle Phillips, the stunning blonde from the sixties hippie band, The Mamas & the Papas.

But then I realized she was just a pretty face who slept with a bunch of famous people.

Mama Cass, however, was fucking awesome.

Here is her story:

The beautiful and fabulous Cass Elliot grew up in Washington D.C. and fell in love with acting. Upon graduating high school, she made a splash in the New York City theater scene. Quickly, her strong voice was recognized by musicians and she joined a couple folk groups.

It was during this time that an almost-tragic accident miraculously gave Mama Cass an even BETTER singing voice!

"It’s true, I did get hit on the head by a pipe that fell down and my range was increased by three notes. They were tearing this club apart in the islands, revamping it, putting in a dance floor. Workmen dropped a thin metal plumbing pipe and it hit me on the head and knocked me to the ground. I had a concussion and went to the hospital. I had a bad headache for about two weeks and all of a sudden I was singing higher. It’s true. Honest to God."-Mama Cass, Rolling Stone Magazine, 1968

After the accident, she was asked to join a newly formed folk band, The Mamas & the Papas, even though member John Phillips considered her too fat and unattractive.

Unfortunately, being overweight in the Twiggy days of the 1960s was a frustrating dilemma for the brilliant singer-songwriter. She struggled through failed crash diets her entire life.

Ironically, despite her obesity, Mama Cass ended up being the most-loved member of the iconic band. Fans immediately realized that Mama Cass was the true talent of the four musicians.

Plus, she became an unexpected sex symbol. The other band members recall crazed fans throwing up their hotel room keys to Mama Cass, desperate for her attention. She even posed for a very famous magazine cover, wearing nothing but a few daisies.

She also overshadowed her bandmate, Michelle, as a fashion symbol for the hippie crowd.

Despite her raging success as a folk musician, Mama Cass's love life was barely hanging by a thread.

She married twice: once in 1968 to save a friend from being drafted into the Vietnam War and the second time to a prominent journalist, who was the heir to a Bavarian barony. But the second marriage only lasted a few months before it crumbled.

She also had a daughter out of wedlock and never revealed the father. Michelle Phillips helped her daughter discover her father years later.

When The Mamas & the Papas broke up in 1971, she began a flourishing solo career. By this point, the bubbly brunette had become extremely close friends with several rock icons, including Joni Mitchell, Jimi Hendrix, and Eric Clapton.

She had just completed two weeks of sold out concerts in London when she unexpectedly died in her flat at the age of 32.

It was famously reported in all the tabloids that Mama Cass died choking on a ham sandwich. That is not true. A doctor merely saw a ham sandwich and a champagne glass sitting on her bed stand. He speculated the food could have been the cause. An autopsy soon declared she had suffered a heart attack during her sleep and no food was found in her windpipe.

Unfortunately, the story, which has become a cruel source of mockery towards the overweight singer, still persists in the minds of music lovers today.